L'aura del Campo

Two islands

Two islands

And the islands shrugged their shoulders
the waters flowing out in a rush.
Did they seek a better place?
They took everything when they moved out.
Left only the beaches suspended in the heights.
Dry bare ridges, still dry, still bare.
Has it been a thousand years?
Below, where their waists meet the river
where the flow that divides them
wanders between the hair of the willow,
the billow of Balm of Gilead gone to seed,
the bloom of camas and arrow-root balsam,
indigo and gold, spare sustenance
for strange new animals that live in skins,
that now raise new mountains to gather
like ants in an anthill.
When will the waters return?
Cloud tears join in their plight,
bright snow gathering between dark pines,
promise that the deep cold lake will return
and they will be islands once more.

© Kåre Enga [21.januar.2017]

Note: Mt. Jumbo and Mt. Sentinel were islands in Ice Age Lake Missoula... a few years ago.